Menu no.21 - Preparation for the Raid

That morning, the guild hall was far more crowded than usual.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was different.

People—far too many people—filled every corner of the hall. Most of them were strangers, faces I had never seen before. They wore full combat gear, armor clanking softly as they moved. Swords hung at their hips, bows rested against their backs, spears and shields leaned against walls. Some were already inside the guild, while many more waited outside, their silhouettes visible through the large glass windows.

It felt less like a guild hall…

…and more like the staging ground for a war.

The atmosphere buzzed with tension and excitement. Voices overlapped, metal scraped against stone, and the scent of oil, leather, and steel filled the air.

Today was busy.

No—today was chaos.

I didn’t even have the luxury of experimenting with new coffee recipes like I usually did. From the moment I entered the kitchen, I was dragged straight into nonstop work. I assisted Gustav, Ivan, and Arumi, moving back and forth without a second to breathe.

Because today wasn’t just any day.

It was a major operation day.

Erina was also helping, just as I asked, stuffing prepared food into large sacks. She hummed cheerfully as she worked, though I could tell even she was getting tired.

Most of the meals we prepared weren’t fresh dishes, but preserved foods—dried meat, hardened bread, seasoned rations, compact meals that could last for days.

These weren’t for comfort.

They were for survival.

Many of the adventurers planned to set up base camps deep inside the dungeon, and food like this was essential. Portable, durable, reliable. Watching the sacks pile up made the scale of the expedition painfully clear.

When everything was finally packed, Arumi clapped her hands lightly.

“All right,” she said. “The supplies will be handed over to the Whatever Party.”

I froze.

“…The what party?”

“Whatever Party,” Arumi repeated casually.

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning.

Whatever Party?

What kind of party named themselves that so casually?

I was still chuckling to myself when Arumi stepped outside to call the party responsible for transporting the supplies.

A few moments later, footsteps approached the kitchen.

And then—

“Huh?”

The members who entered weren’t strangers.

Kazuha strode in first, energetic as ever. Tiara followed calmly, her expression gentle and composed. And behind them came Asuna, arms crossed, wearing her usual confident smirk.

I stared.

“…You guys?”

They stared back.

“…You?” Kazuha blinked.

Arumi smiled brightly. “Daiki, these three are from the Whatever Party.”

Silence.

Then—

“WAIT. YOU’RE TELLING ME THIS IS WHATEVER PARTY?!” I burst out laughing.

Kazuha’s face instantly turned red.

She lunged forward and slapped a hand over my mouth. “DON’T SAY IT OUT LOUD!” she hissed. “Never. Ever. Say our real party name again!”

I nodded frantically, my laughter muffled behind her hand.

She released me with a glare. “Good.”

Apparently, that name was a secret they wished the world to forget.

.

.

.

After all the supplies were finally loaded and taken away, the kitchen fell quiet for the first time that day.

I collapsed onto a chair, utterly exhausted. My arms felt heavy, my legs barely held me up.

I wasn’t the only one.

Erina had completely passed out, curled up asleep on Alisa’s lap. Alisa sat beside me, gently patting Erina’s head with one hand.

Gustav, meanwhile, was already back at the stove.

“How does he still have energy?” I muttered.

“Don’t question it,” Alisa replied. “You’ll lose.”

I glanced around. “Where’s Arumi and Ivan?”

“Arumi took Ivan home,” Alisa said. “He overworked himself.”

That made sense.

For a while, we just sat there, enjoying the rare calm.

Then Alisa spoke again.

“…Where did you learn to cook like this?” she asked.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“The food. And the coffee,” she continued. “You’re not self-taught, are you?”

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I learned when I was young.”

I told her about my parents. How they ran a small restaurant just to survive. How, growing up, the kitchen had been my playground. How cooking became second nature to me before I even realized it.

Then I told her about coffee.

About the day my uncle brought home a strange, bitter drink called coffee. How he poured me a glass of cold brew. How I hated the bitterness at first—then fell in love with it instantly.

Cold brew was the easiest to make. Cheap. Simple. That was why I started with it.

But learning other methods was hard. I didn’t have money. Equipment was expensive.

“…I was lucky,” I said quietly. “Someone I knew hired me at a coffee shop.”

From there, I learned everything.

Machines. Filters. Pressure. Time. Temperature.

“I once tasted nearly a hundred types of coffee in a single week,” I added.

Alisa froze.

“…A hundred?”

I nodded. “To understand flavor. Balance. Aftertaste.”

She stared at me like I was insane.

“…That’s dedication,” she muttered.

“Maybe,” I said with a faint smile. “But my dream was always to open my own coffee shop.”

Alisa listened silently, her hand still gently stroking Erina’s hair.

“This is actually the first time I’ve told anyone about this,” I admitted.

We didn’t look at each other. We just stared ahead, at the quiet kitchen.

Then Alisa smiled.

“You’ll achieve it,” she said simply. “I’m sure of it.”

My chest tightened.

That was the first time Alisa had ever supported me so sincerely.

Then—

The kitchen door creaked open.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

I turned—and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Boss Hugo stood there in full armor, his massive axe strapped to his back.

Alisa and I shot to our feet.

Erina slipped off Alisa’s lap and fell onto the floor with a soft thump.

“…Ow, nyan.”

Boss Hugo grinned.

And for some reason, I had a feeling—

Today still wasn’t over.